


$20 Bet

by fanoftheprofoundbond



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff, M/M, Peterick, Songwriting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-21 09:58:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4824557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanoftheprofoundbond/pseuds/fanoftheprofoundbond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is bullshit," he grumbled. "It's hopeless. <i>I'm</i> hopeless."</p>
<p>“No, you’re not,” Patrick said calmly, but emphatically as he picked up the ball of paper and opened it up, setting it on his own notebook and straightening out the creases with his hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	$20 Bet

**Author's Note:**

> “One thing that Pete and I won’t tolerate in each other–this is something that we have argued about a lot and gotten really angry with each other about–is that self doubt, is that kind of, “You don’t understand what you’ve made here, this is really great” and I’ll find Pete sometimes saying “Ahh these lyrics suck” and it pisses me off because it’s so good and he’s just missing it.” - Patrick Stump (INSPIRATION FOR THIS DRABBLE)

"These lyrics fucking suck," Pete growled under his breath.

Patrick didn't pay too much attention. He was used to hearing such phrases from Pete during writing sessions - it was part of the older boy's creative process.

The two boys were in Patrick's apartment for a writing session. Joe and Andy were supposed to be there, too, but Joe had decided that he wanted food and Andy had gone along with him to bring back dinner for four. Pete was sprawled on the couch in a way that looked super uncomfortable to Patrick, who was in a sitting position on the floor with his back against the couch, his head and shoulders just in front of Pete's notebook.

There was a sudden rip of paper and then a balled-up sheet of paper went flying past Patrick's shoulder. Pete made a frustrated noise and sat up, just nearly missing bashing into his friend.

"This is bullshit," he grumbled. "It's hopeless. _I'm_ hopeless."

“No, you’re not,” Patrick said calmly, but emphatically as he picked up the ball of paper and opened it up, setting it on his own notebook and straightening out the creases with his hand. As he did so, the pencil marks smudged just the slightest, making the tips of the singer’s fingers grey.

Patrick only had to read a few lines before he burst out, “This is amazing, Pete! Why would you think that it sucks?” He craned his neck to look back at the dark-haired boy.

“No, it’s not,” Pete insisted. His arms were folded and his eyebrows were furrowed. “It’s crap. Complete and utter _crap_."

Patrick felt himself getting angry. It was bad enough that Pete struggled on a daily basis with mental issues, but to have such low self-worth that he couldn’t see the genius of his own work...

The smaller boy set down his work and got up. Patrick pushed Pete's legs away to make room for himself to sit, the older boy shifting a little and then putting one foot against Patrick’s thigh. Patrick tried to ignore it for the moment. Pete often did little things like this, not quite enough to send Patrick over the edge, but almost there… and right now, he had more important issues at hand.

“Pete, this is genius,” he said, pushing his finger at the paper to point at a certain line of poetry. “The metaphor is great and the word choice is brilliant. I couldn’t do it any better. You’re the best lyricist I know, so please don’t beat yourself up about something that’s going to blow up the charts."

“It’s your voice that’s going to get us blown off the charts,” Pete said slowly, though Patrick could see he was beginning to yield. His words gave Patrick goosebumps, but he knew he was going to have to stay firm if he was going to win Pete over completely.

“Don’t you fucking flirt with me,” he growled, pushing Pete’s feet away from his leg (the other had migrated to a similar position). “The lyrics are what make us Fall Out Boy.”

Patrick absent-mindedly ran his fingers against his face, making grey streak marks from pencil lead run from his forehead down to the middle of his puffy cheeks (but then, they were flatter than they had been in a while from the new diet plan he was trying called ‘don’t cut anything out, just eat like a bird’).

Pete smirked. “You’ve got a little something right there,” he said, pointing to the same place on his own cheek.

Patrick made a face and swiped at his face - an action that only made the marks smudge more across his face.

“Stop avoiding the topic,” he grumbled. He was going to say more, but Pete leaned forward, making Patrick’s mind go into a jumbled frenzy, forgetting what he had been about to say.

“Let me,” Pete said, licking his thumb and then drawing the finger along the smudge line.

“That’s gross,” Patrick mumbled, the only words coming out of his mouth being ridiculous ones. He found his eyes trailing down to Pete’s lips, which looked very pink and soft. Very kissable, in fact. He forced himself to tear his gaze away and look up at Pete, who was looking amused.

“Well, that’s not going to do anything… you’re going to need more liquid on that to wash it off,” Pete commented, and then, leaning in even closer (making Patrick’s heart jump around as fast as his thoughts) … _licking_ (yes, licking!) Patrick’s face.

“Now that’s just unsanitary!” Patrick yelped, leaning back. “Why don’t you just get a damp paper towel like normal people?"

Pete just smirked and leaned in further to follow Patrick’s face. He was almost falling on top of the smaller boy until he supported himself against the couch with one hand. Then he seemed to change his mind… Patrick did’t quite know what was happening until Pete was on his lap, pinning his shoulders against the couch with that same smirk turning up his lips, but the crinkling at the corners of his eyes were framing a softer look. It was a look that made Patrick’s heart almost want to break - to think that someone would look at him that way, least of all his Pete.

“Hmmm?” he asked, faking a pretence of not remembering what Patrick had said. “What was that? A paper towel? I can do it that way, if you like.” He made a move to get off Patrick’s lap.

It had taken it this long to sink in, but it finally clicked in Patrick’s mind just what Pete was up to. He had waited so long for such a moment - hoped so long for such a moment, in fact - that instinct came into play and he reached forward, grabbing the front of Pete’s hoodie and pulling him back in one savage gesture.

“Stop fooling around and just kiss me,” he growled in that low voice that made pubescent girls swoon (at least that’s what they said). They weren’t the kind of words that Patrick would have ever thought he would speak, especially to a man, but addressed to Pete, they made perfect sense.

The corners of Pete’s lips curved upward again, but he didn’t say anything this time. Instead, he leaned in all the way and pressed his lips against Patrick’s. That was it for a few seconds until passion kicked in and mouths started working against each other, lips and tongue and heat, Patrick’s hands up in Pete’s hair, gripping just a little too tight.

It wasn’t nearly long enough, not nearly enough kisses to make up for lost time, when the door creaked open and Pete leaned back, his eyes wide - not with shock, but surprise. He wasn’t embarrassed (was Pete ever embarrassed?), merely startled.

Joe and Andy were standing in the door with bags of Chinese takeout. When Patrick had imagined various scenarios in his head, he had thought that if Joe or Andy had ever found him and Pete like this ( _like it would ever happen_ ), their bandmates would have looked shocked - maybe a little disgusted.

But Joe was smirking and Andy was shaking his head, grinning. The latter, sunglasses dangling on his nose, dove his hand into his jeans pocket and came out with a $20 bill, which he handed to Joe.

“You won that bet,” he said.

“Told you,” Joe grinned, setting the food on the floor. “Now are you two going to continue or come eat? Because I’m starving."

Patrick looked at Pete, pretty sure that the shock from this new development was showing in his features. Pete shrugged, gave a little grin, and then leaned in one more time to give Patrick a soft, quick kiss (as if to prove to Joe and Andy that Patrick was, in fact, his), and then shuffled backwards before standing up.

“We’ll eat,” he said.


End file.
